


Sticky Fingers

by FishLeather



Series: Material Blood AU [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, [MBAU]
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 22:35:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11217639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FishLeather/pseuds/FishLeather
Summary: AU: everyone's blood is a unique random material or substance (water, sand, syrup, gasoline, etc)





	1. The Rockies

**Author's Note:**

> Just a sort of setting-the-scene thing.

Some a’ those rockies drove into our side a that Barrens this mornin, prolly mistook one of us for one a them. They always claim that their folk always go missin on our property. They act all high n’ mighty, “inorganic” this, “elemental” that, no wonder someone always has a bone ta pick with’m. Those city slickers always act like we’re somehow worse off for not being made outta dead stuff from underground! The only decent one I met was born here, Horseshoe. Sure, his joints make a noise that makes ya cover your ears, but he’s a decent, trusty, and rusty fella. He told me over a beer one mornin that he’s made outta “hem-o-tight.” I asked him how he knew, and would you believe that he has it on this little necklace he has ta wear? I never thought he was battin for that team, but why else a guy gonna wear jewlary if he ain’t married? But nah he said if he takes it off he hasta go back to that dreadful ol city and can’t never come back! Well, I told him that’s a damn shame and paid his tab since he was bein so open an I wasn’t sure how to make things even-steven again.


	2. Physical Reaction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to meet those city-slicker inorganics.

“Subject is secured and under watch. We are prepped for the procedure. We are awaiting the signal.”  
She put down her mug, flexing her now unencumbered fingers in the temperature-controlled observation room. The dark window she faced was reinforced, to contain heat coming from the procedure chamber.  
The subject was warily pacing, occasionally cracking their knuckles, a nervous habit the resident scientist had seen him do even before entering the chamber, just hours ago.  
An automated set of airlocks secured the door, as the temperature was slowly raised.  
“Subject is currently behaving normally, at a temperature of 70°F.”  
After receiving another mug of water from a co-worker, the scientist leaned back a bit on the uncomfortable chair. She turned on her desk lamp, briefly, to review her notes, before turning it off so as not to obscure the dark window with reflections.  
============  
“Subject is currently behaving normally, at a temperature of 75°F.”  
“…of 80°F.”  
“…of 85°F.”  
Damn, this was boring.  
“Ey, speed it up, guys, he ain’t a drink. We ain’t got all day.”  
Oh, /him/.  
The scientist cleared her throat, signaling her presence to the local nutjob.  
He rolled his eyes. “What? There’s a reason you ain’t out there… and it ain't just because a’ the backlog.”  
“Well now. I suggest you hurry up and check in the chamber, before you lose a vital chance to talk down to someone.”  
As he rummaged indiscriminately for supplies, he complained loudly that the wall monitor system should be checked. The room was a tenth of a degree below regulation.  
“An’ /I/ would know! ‘Bet it’s that awful cold shoulder ya got there, huh?”  
“Yes, of course, /human thermometer/. Don’t you have a job to do?”  
Finishing the swap to non flammable clothing, he placed his /precious/ Tags on the desk. He smirked,“Don’t you?”  
She’ll admit the face she made before whirling around to once more face the chamber window was not her top concern, as the buzzer signaled it was up to temperature. Some day she would try a stiff drink– if the thought of it wouldn’t keep feeling like cannibalism.  
===============  
He manoeuvred through the airlock with practiced ease. Watching through the window, the scientist realized the Mercury had taken her pen. Of course. Now notes would have to wait.


	3. Forgery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's the deal with co-workers? Amiright?

He winced a bit at the tightness rushing to his head, pausing after having entered the chamber at the peak of it’s temperature capabilities.  
“Ok, how ya holdin up, hot stuff?" the mercury joked with a smile.  
“It’s damn hot in here, and I don’t feel any better. What did you expect?” the iron replied, humorlessly.  
“I dunno, maybe some thank-yous for even trying to help your rusty ass?”  
“Rusty, was I? Kid, you do not ever want to know what it’s like to go through solid dialysis.” He paused, to let that sink in. “Felt like I had broken glass in my goddamn veins! At least after this, I’m clean again. Listen, metal-to-metal. Let’s just stick together. No reason to treat us the way you treat those lightweights, hm?”  
The mercury nodded, not wanting to have a disagreement with a 400 pound literal iron-man.  
===  
She watched the subject through the dark window, having nothing else to do after being relieved of her writing utensil. Both men seemed to be fine.  
She glanced at the neckpiece on the desk. Those tags seemed to be the guy’s only proof of worth to himself. Unfortunate that they were here, and he was not.  
========  
When he returned after the scientist determined nothing new was occurring in the subject, the man eyed the desk, taking his Tags and putting them around his neck without reading them. He stomped his feet in place, trying to get some feeling back in them after such a change in temperature left mercury pooling his heels.  
The scientist excused herself for a drink, careful to conceal the ID pendant she had obtained.


	4. Bloomin' Idiot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tadaa! I lightened up on that accent!

I went to Horseshoe's house to tell him about the car I saw, but he wasn't home. I checked the pub, winked at the cute bit o moonshine tending the counter, and decided to check the border.

I headed out with a scoop and a spile, and collected some of that beautiful pine-tar I been blessed with, and headed out to give those sissy sons o solids what for. I saw Horseshoe all splayed out, prolly drunk as that dame from before. I tried to lift him up but damn, that fella is heavier than I ever woulda thought.

It hurts to say, but I gotta admit, I was dumb enough to take off my work gloves and grab him 'round the gut bare handed. I didn't really notice until I saw the black sludge boiling all over my hands onto his nice getup, musta been too worried to feel the burns happen.

=========

I finally got my hands off him, see my material is stickyer'n fly paper, so when I realized he was hot as blue blazes I was neck-deep in trouble without no life-ring in sight. I managed to loose quite a bit o tar yanking myself away with all the strength I had, and I just dipped my hands in the stuff I tapped from a real tree. Sure it was unsanitary. It also meant my hands didn't feel like I was doin the tango with lucifer anymore.

I plunked down on my behind and decided I oughta not be bullheaded about this. I gotta be smart. I gotta get a wheelbarrow. And some oven mitts. Gotta let my hands dry first.  
Sticky Fingers part 3  
Then I saw him, really saw him. He was different. The smell was gone. He was all smooth, too. Glowin a lil' like a real dark red on him where he was still too hot to touch. I remember seeing that color when he would pound things on that awful loud anvil o his. Did those dimwits think they could just pound the flaws outta someone just like that?! They got another thing comin! 

On second thought, maybe he owed someone. Had to be someone good with heat... that crossed off most townfolk, organics don't like to be cooked. Hell, the bartender barely makes it on an average summer day, she gotta spend those days taken care of as if she was some kinda smokey who can't get cut.

===

After going back to town and getting fixed up with some bandages, Dr.Lye gave me a real earful of just how dumb I was. 'Whoever done that shit to Horeshoe might still be out there' he told me. A few burlier townfolk managed to carry him in, it took 6 grown laborers to get him through the door and onto the table.

I watched the buttons on my friend's shirt tilt a bit with each breath he took. He was alive. Oh I think I thanked every star in the sky that night that he was alive. Lyle was more interested in trying to get pine tar outta his comatose patient's shirt. I shook my head. It's the domestic things that remind us of what we still are. Human. Mostly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Bloom is something to do with iron forging.


End file.
